T minus two lanes until my insides calm down.
70, then 45, then 35, and now 15
mph through my ever rushing mind.
I stroll down main street with my thoughts.
I learn their names.
We talk longer than the usual 20 minutes.
Seventy in church this morning.
In the fellowship hall,
cub scouts sold their mothers' cake
to old ladies wearing Sunday best.
No talk of calories.
Two, ten
no, sixteen hours til their Sabbath ends.
Time for a cafe brunch,
time for an afternoon nap.
No concern for hours lost.
Population million, thousand, now just
800 stories to tell,
Six generations of friendly hellos.
They played football together,
she watched them as children.
I'll return to a different demographic: a populace of
370,000 ways to rush through the day,
370,000 worries over efficiency and image,
370,000 "just don't have the time"s
There, I'll wake to the longing
for a two lane heart,
a quiet conversation with my thoughts
(what were their names?),
a pew that they know is mine,
a booth in the local cafe.
Sometimes, it's
T minus too many days
til a small town girl
finds home.
(Written after a Sunday outing described in the previous post)
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5 comments:
I love it!
If poetry paid well, you'd be getting rich.
I'm glad you had a poetry-inspiring weekend (probably worth more than the millions you should make off your writing.
I was admiring the poem and loved it but did not really understand it until I read the one before...
Great stuff! I cannot stop thinking about those boyscouts and the cake--what a vivid image! And I've always regretted the that the 3rd line of "It Is Well" has the most poignant words..."My sin, oh the bliss of this glorious thought, is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more!!"
Enjoyed this very much. Especially the line about the "I just don't have times." Thanks for sharing.
Even though I haven't talked to you in like a million years and you're more than 17 hours away from me, you still manage to challenge and encourage me in more ways than one.
Wishing I could join you for an awesome, muddy bike ride!
Much love!
Christine
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